


five times one hundred

by l_cloudy



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Melancholy, One Shot Collection, Other, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five persons, five moments, five drabbles.</p><p><b>Nightmare</b>, <i>noun</i>. A frightening dream that usually awakens the sleeper.<br/><b>Price</b>, <i>noun</i>. [...] an amount sufficient to bribe one.<br/><b>Fall</b>, <i>verb</i>. [...] to drop down wounded or dead.<br/><b>Storm</b>, <i>noun</i>. A serious disturbance of any element of nature<br/><b>Beloved</b>, <i>adj</i>. Dearly loved, dear to the heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times one hundred

**Author's Note:**

> Because I felt like writing and this fandom ate my brain.  
> Prompts come from the [fiction drabbles](http://www.fiction-drabbles.dreamwidth.org/) community over at dreamwidth.

**#129. Nightmare**

Lee regrets a lot of things.

Loves and mistakes and wrong turns, misspoken words and missed chances, all of them his fault. All of them he dreams about, all of them he can deal with. Caprica is another story.

He wasn’t part of the rescue team – how could he? That’s what command means, being promoted out, too damn important to risk getting caught in the crossfire. And so the others went and he stayed, and he never had any images to go with the terrifying thoughts in his head.

At night he dreams of fire and screams and melted bones.

* * *

 

 

**#111. Price**

_Absolute power corrupts absolutely_ , the saying went, and the first time Laura heard it she dismissed as a stupid generalization, and absolutes are never right anyway. _The thing about being President, is that you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone_ , Richard was fond of saying, but that was a catchphrase he’d made up to shut her up more than anything, a catchphrase that left her red-faced and riled up and saying, _things will change one day_.

Five years later, and she can really appreciate the sheer irony of it all. She only wishes Richard was here to see her.

* * *

 

 

**#003. Fall**

The Fall, they’re calling it, probably because The End Of The Worlds can be quite a mouthful and That Day doesn’t sound half as catchy, and Kara can’t help it but find it all extremely amusing – but then again, she’s always liked dark humor best.

Names and places and dates, they don’t matter. She lost count of the days sometime during that horrible first week, lost count of the hours between a two-minutes nap and a drug-induced high, right after a brush with death or another.

Whenever, wherever, whatever. They’re still alive and kicking and _fighting_ , and nothing else matters.

* * *

 

 

**#104. Storm**

Weather on Caprica is a bitch.

That’s because of the nukes, of course. There’s nothing like a nuclear explosion – or three hundred – to mess up the climate, and yet Sam is glad – the endless rains that started almost from day one will help wash down the fallout out of the air, or at least some of it, and the next generation might be able to wander around without getting a shot of anti-radiation meds every two days.

The sixth time Sam catches himself thinking about _radiation levels_ and _next generation_ , he smiles.

He hasn’t given up on his home yet.

* * *

 

 

**#116. Beloved**

God loves you, you have been taught.

God loves you, and your brothers and sisters, His children.

God loves you, you have been taught, or maybe you’ve always known. Can Faith be taught? Maybe it is Or is it something people are born with, _born_ like you were born.

Programmed. Can Faith be programmed?

Does it even matter?

You are glad for what you are, loved.

God loves you, and your brothers and sisters, His children, and together you all carry on His plan.

“Get down,” you hiss.

There’s broken glass and a blaze of fire, like a warm embrace.


End file.
